Avengers Drama
by Daryl Alenko
Summary: A crossover fic between Torchwood, with a Doctor Who character, and the Avengers. When two new members are added to the Avengers, it makes for one hell of an interesting day.
1. Title Page

**Title: **Avengers' Drama

**Author: **_Daryl Alenko_

**Rating: **Teen, in case of language

**Summary: **_A crossover fic between Torchwood, with a Doctor Who character, and the Avengers. When two new members are added to the Avengers, it makes for one hell of an interesting day._

**Characters Involved: **The Avengers team, Rory Williams, and Captain Jack Harkness.

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, I need to give a little bit of background information for this fic. The portrayal of Rory and Captain Jack are based off of an RP between a friend of mine, in which Rory is no longer with Amy. On his way to Amy's house one day, Rory was sucked up into a Rift storm, and actually ended up back in Ancient Rome. Where he became a Centurion for a few years, before a second Rift storm brought him to Cardiff, and Torchwood, where he began to work.

**AN 2: **This story is mostly for comedy and foolishness, so a few of the characters will be OOC. Please don't flame me if you don't like my portrayal of them. It's meant to be funny/silly.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

**Hope you enjoy! Review if you wish, though nothing too mean or anything, please. Heh. I write to entertain, and I know this will not be everyone's cup of tea. If you don't like the concept, you don't have to read. Thanks for your time!**


	2. The Last Centurion

**Chapter 1: The Last Centurion**

* * *

"Sir .. I'm afraid I don't understand. It is not SHIELD policy to accept any affiliated members ... and the file on both of these are .. well, I can't think of anything that wouldn't be offensive without simply saying off the wall. Can the claims in either file even be substantiated!?" The suited man with wide, pained eyes glances at his boss, a black man in a sleek suit with an out of place eye-patch across one eye. It didn't take too long to get used to the patch, simply because there was no alternative; the only one that Agent Johnson had seen openly say something about the eye patch had been gone within the hour.

Nick Fury, the man that has recruited the many different members of the Avengers project, turns to look at the younger man with a weary smirk.

"The Immortal and the Last Centurion .. tell me, if even half of their file is true, how could we afford to turn them away?" There is a hint of amusement in the words, Agent Fury turning to look down at the nondescript white file folder in his hand, which is open to the picture of a handsome man in his late 30's with a bright smirk and teasing steel blues.

"Sir .. forgive me for saying, but ... I don't think the team are ready for these two."

Fury barks with cool laughter. It was time to shake things up a bit. He wasn't joking or overstating that they couldn't afford to pass up on the two men; the rest of the team would either adapt or .. well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

* * *

Rory, aka the Last Centurion, is a down-to-Earth man who has spent the last year of his life readjusting to the 2000's. 18 years in the Roman empire circa Julius Caesar seemed a world apart from the fast cars, every changing phones and slimming of computers that seemed to surround him. He can vaguely remember his time in Leadworth, the town of his birth, but it is mostly foggy images of a harpy redhead and a grandmother that he misses terribly. The only thing that still seems as sharp as ever, is the medical knowledge he had put to good use over the last year in his place of employment.

But all of that had come to an end when he found himself suddenly without a job, trying to decide what direction his life should head in. It was at that moment that he found himself approached by Fury and offered a job in a new superhero division. He had laughed, outright -laughed- when he was asked to join a band of superheroes. Him, plain old nurse Rory .. the member of a squad of superheroes!? What would he be, their mascot? But, he did it .. he took the job, agreed to be both a fighter and a field medic for the team. Fury told him, up front, that he would see as much action as he would wounds.

What else was he going to do? He had thought it over, and just couldn't see himself able to return to a 'normal' life after everything that he had seen. So, he took the offer.

He stops, looking at the lobby of the building that would act as the current headquarters. It seemed so .. normal. Stark white lab and infirmary below, office buildings above, even a basic cafeteria. It was nothing like the last place, which looked a little like a steampunk brochure had exploded. Though, he misses the guard bird, so much.

The Last Centurion settles at the small desk in the medlab, eyes squinting slightly at the meager contents stacked in different areas. Medical files had been amassed, his on the very top, which makes him laugh a little. Since he already knows what's in it, he pushes it to the side, looking down at the next one. He recognizes the name of course; Jack. He barely manages to hold a cool smirk at bay as he yanks it open. The first time he had gotten the chance to look at - what the hell!? He yanks the single sheet of paper out that has a single line written on it in ornate, mocking calligraphy; Dream on, soldier-boy!

The smirk becomes an angry frown; thwarted again! The jackass isn't even in -charge- here and had found a way to keep Rory from getting a look at him medically. The file folder flies across the room, landing open on the floor as the nurse yanks the next one open. Thor; Asgardian. Godling. Rory doesn't even bat an eyelash as he begins to read through the different files. He had come across the likes of them more than once; this would simply be another job, in another town. Business as usual.

The only file that stops and makes him take pause is Captain America's; Steve Rogers. His eyes narrow after he reads for a few minutes, groaning softly to himself. Steve mixed with everyone else, and Captain Jack thrown into the mix?

".. these people will never survive him."

Rory sighs the words, shoving the file closed.


	3. The Immortal

**Chapter 2: The Immortal**

* * *

Rory glances around the room for a long, slow moment. He recognized everyone, of course; kind of hard not to when some of them were so .. outlandish. Thor with his battle armor even when there is no battle, Tony Stark in suits that would cost all of Rory's wages from his last job. The moody stand alone that seemed a moment from losing his cool would be Bruce, and deity help him, the one that catches his attention the most .. Steve Rogers, Captain America. The strength and in charge attitude he exudes reminds Rory of someone .. someone that brings the barest hint of a blush to his cheeks as he tries to look away. The impeccable hair and confidence really didn't help the blush, either!

"Excuse me .. am, am I the only one confused as to why the glorified nurse is coming with us?"

Tony Stark's condescending words cut through the room. Long gone were the days where Rory would've stayed in the background, silent and timid when confronted by an obviously powerful man like Tony Stark, Iron Man. Long gone were the days where he did not earn and deserve respect. His reaction times had improved with his time in Rome, and even more so once he came back to his time. His hand has wrapped around the Black Widow's handgun and drawn it from her holster before she can register the fact that someone is reaching for her weapon. A few seconds after that, and everyone looks on in shock as three shots ring out, bullets imbedding in the wall beside each of Tony's ears, and right above his head. Rory tosses the gun to the Black Widow, who catches it with a mix of anger and awe. Rory turns back to his original destination.

"Now, if there are no more stupid questions, I believe we have work to do?"

Rory glances around after speaking, his frown increasing.

"... aren't we missing someone?"

He controls his voice, barely managing to keep the anger and annoyance out of his words. Where the hell was Jack!? The pompous prat should've been here yesterday, damn it! On the outside, he keeps a cool exterior, while cursing and grumbling inwardly. Leave it to the prat of all prats to show up late for helping to save the world!

"The Captain will be joining us a little later."

Fury smirks, watching Rory's reaction. He had wondered how the Centurion would react to the Captain being late, and he gets no end of amusement from watching him try to school every expression. Yes, this would be interesting indeed.

* * *

Again, Rory finds himself mostly unimpressed when they arrive at Staten Island, and find a small group of strange, tall blue creatures tearing up the place. After one has ridden on the back of a Pterodactyl to save a colleague, or tirelessly climbed 7000 steps to ask a favor of a Godling .. all of this is just another day, another fight, another job. It's not that he's jaded, it's that he's seen a lot in his short time. Well, Jack would call it short .. Rory would call it 2000 years of different forms of hell.

"Watch your flank!"

The Leadworth native hollers in agitation, frowning as he watches Captain America glare at him for daring to give an order. He had read Steve's file, and if the American prat wanted to believe it or not, Rory had commanded 50 times more men than Steve ever had, and knew what he was talking about! As if to illustrate his point, Captain America finds himself hit in the side with a large sledgehammer, the sound of ribs cracking almost thunderous. Rory shakes his head and darts in, catching the man around the waist and shoulder before he falls to the ground.

He scuttles away as quick and careful as he can, laying the semi-conscious superhero on the ground where Hawkeye is already curled up, face busted up in several places. Rory's gaze snaps to the battlefield. There was one bad guy left that they knew of, Stark still off somewhere in his flying tin can, supposedly dispatching another of the creatures.

Thor was the only one still active at the moment, but no sooner does Rory blink than he sees the Godling fall in a spray of blood and Nordic curses. Rory steels himself, trying to decide which decision to make; go for Thor and get him off the battlefield, or go for the last creature and try and take it down, try to prevent it from getting out, into the world and killing innocents. His mind is easily made up; protect the innocent. He begins to stand, making it to a half crouch before he feels a pressure on his shoulder. He glances back and falls flat on his arse as he looks up into a pair of mesmerizing steel blues.

"I got this, soldier. Sorry I'm late .. miss me?"

The Pseudo-American accent sends a shiver down Rory's spine, his own eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the suave 'American' man saunter toward the field of battle.

"Yeah .. but my aim has improved!"

Rory snaps after the man who waltzes toward Thor, grabbing him around his midriff and lifting him with ease with an arm around his shoulders. He turns and carries the lumbersome Godling to the pile of injured superheroes, barely managing not to shake his head and scoff.

"Here, soldier-boy .. I think goldilocks needs some help, too. Gonna borrow Mjöllnir, if you don't mind."

Jack tosses Thor a dimpled, glowing smile, the Godling trying to scoff, but ending up in a bloodied, gurgled coughing fit instead.

"That is Mjöllnir, hammer of Thor .. you could never lift it, human."

Rory groans softly, reaching up to smack his hand across his own forehead.

"Really shouldn't've said that, man. He loves a challenge."

Rory's words are soft and punched, and Jack lets out a thunderous laugh as he turns, darting forward with a quick burst of speed. His nimble hands wrap around the hilt of Mjöllnir, and while he could not wield it single-handedly, he lifts it with ease, bringing in an upward swing that connects easily with the large creature's gaping maw. A sickening thud is heard as the mythical hammer connects, the creature letting out a screech. Jack dodges a massive claw, feeling it rake across his back, tearing into his greatcoat and tearing open the skin beneath.

"... never tear up the coat."

Rory groans those words as well, shaking his head. At that point, the fights over and he knows it. So, he turns back to begin cleaning Thor's face, the Godling looking on with an awed expression Rory had seen on many a face. He just shakes his head and continues working. If he continues patching the idiotic God up, then he won't be tempted to look over his shoulder and see what the hell is happening behind him ... won't be tempted to see how Jack is fairing.

The Captain's eyes narrow, fingers touching the top of his back, feeling the shredded fabric and skin.

"Oh, hell no .."

He growls, fingers gripping Mjöllnir tightly. He braces his feet on the ground, one in front of the other, muscles tight and flexed. 3 ... 2 ... 1! Mjöllnir arches through the air, catching the creature square on the jaw. Rory flinches at the sickening thud as the creature flies through the air, smacking into the side of a building, the creature's neck broken as it bleeds out as well. Jack snickers when he notices the Iron Man robot having to boost forward to avoid the creature, Jack putting his hand up to his mouth to amplify his smooth, American accented voice.

"FORE!"

Rory can't help himself, he snickers beneath his breath before going stoic again.

"Oi! Get over here and help."

He snaps at Jack, who turns and walks over, tossing Mjöllnir to Thor who catches it easily.

"Yeah yeah, just admit that you missed me already, soldier-boy, and we can get the pleasantries over with."

"... like I said already, Captain .. my aim has improved."

Jack winks at the nurse and then turns to help Captain America to his feet, that dimpled, sultry smirk appearing on Jack's features.

"Captain Jack .. and who might you be?"

Captain America splutters, trying to remember his name, and Rory grits his teeth.

"Stop it."

He growls, Jack bursting out into laughter before he continues helping the superhero.


	4. Thor

**Chapter 3: The Avengers; aka High School All Over Again**

* * *

_**Part 1 - Thor:**_

* * *

"Would you -please- sit still? If you don't, I will mess up this stitch .. if you make me mess up this stitch, I will become angry .. and you will end up with a scar that looks like a tutu .. or something equally appalling." Rory's voice is bathed in clipped anger and weariness, though the day is still relatively early. The 'action' of earlier is still fresh in the minds and on the bodies of those that had been involved, but Rory finds that his mind is more preoccupied than it should be at the moment.

As if on cue, as if the arrogant twit -knows- that Rory is thinking about him, the infirmary doors come swinging open, Captain Jackass himself! And not the -real-American one. Rory's hands tighten for a moment on the clamp in his hands before he carefully relaxes.

"Now is not the time Cap-" Rory's words are immediately eclipsed by the large Asgardian Godling literally perking up at the arrival of Captain Jack.

"Captain! A mighty battle fought today! Surely you will allow me to take you for a celebratory drink? We will have much ale and find some hearty wenches." Rory snorts at those words before openly scowling at Thor's arm, where he's currently working, because Jack doesn't immediately answer.

Jack had, of course, heard Thor, but the answer would have to wait. It's time to play his favorite game first; Poke the Ex-Centurion's Nerves and Then Run Like Hell. The game always seemed to make things interesting at the end of the day.

"What's up, Doc?" Jack manages to fire the cheesy question off in a single breath and ignore Rory in the very next in favor of walking over to Thor and pounding him heartily on the back, the Godling lighting up happily.

"An attractive invitation, Thor, for more than one reason. I am honored. But, no can do, _minn dróttinn_ (My Lord) I have other plans tonight .. with my own_ Hilmir_. (King) this night."

It is almost adorable, the way Thor almost completely shuts down. The way the happiness seems to drain from him, a pout pursing his lips as he prepares to have a mighty tantrum for being rejected. Rory pulls a stitch then, causing Thor to swear and glare at him.

"Sorry." The nurse murmurs lightly, the distraction working to keep Thor from getting too angry. Thor glares at Rory for a moment, before shifting his attention back toward Jack.

"I took you to be the type that serves no King, Captain .. am I so wrong?" By the tone in Thor's voice, he sounds almost like a child about to lose his hero worship. Jack gives out another laugh, once again thumps Thor on the back in hearty friendship.

"You are right, after a fashion. I serve no king, Thor .. my _Hilmir_ is far more to me than that. My_ Hilmir_ .. is also my .. _hjarta_ (heart) ..._ hugr_. (Spirit)" Jack's cheeks erupt with a mild blush as he says this, and Rory finds that he -really- wishes he understood what the hell the two of them were talking about. His teeth grit harder and he begins to change his stitch pattern.

"But, you are _dæll_? ('soft') That .. cannot be!" Thor looks surprised, so shocked in fact, that his eyes look almost blank ... as if something has short-circuited in his mind. Jack's smile hardens, and he shifts so that his hip is leaning against the chair that Thor is in, barely managing not to lash out at the Godling.

"I am anything but .. soft ... saw that for yourself, today. I am not .. _dæll_ ... I am .. _hníga ástir, búnaðr meg neiss_! (open to love, equipment be damned)" Thor frowns, and yet, it is not at what Jack says, but rather, at himself. He finds a preconceived notion being bitchslapped right in front of him, head suddenly bobbing slowly in understanding.

"This is something I must speak to Odin about. Thank you,_ Hilmir_ Jack." With that, Thor looks down impatiently at Rory, who cuts the excess stitch, Jack glancing down at the now sealed wound with a dark smirk and a quirked brow. Once Rory nods, Thor turns and walks quickly from the room, leaving Rory glaring after him. The moment Thor is gone, Jack bursts into laughter, turning his dancing gaze on the human nurse.

"Really? You turned his stitches into a big ol' heart with a -J- in it?! That's going to be one hell of a scar." Rory continues to glare where Thor exited, before turning his dark, unreadable gaze on Jack.

"Well, I -did- warn him .. and it's not likely that he will notice anytime soon. But I thought it fitting .. with the way he was practically drooling after you, Captain. By the end of the week, he will have changed the laws on his homeworld and proposed .. just like on Ashia." There is a hint of amusement in Rory's voice, and Jack actually groans.

"Ok, that was -not- my fault! How the hell was I supposed to know that shaking a man's hand was a marriage proposal?" Jack whines softly, his cheeks filling with heat when Rory lifts a hand to try and laugh behind it. The Captain turns, stalking out of the infirmary as well.

"Me 1 .. Captain Jackass 0." Rory's amused words follow after him, before he turns to begin cleaning his instruments.


	5. The Fan Club

_Anything appearing in [ ] is a foreign language. _

_Anything appearing in ( ) is the basic translation_

_Also, for those who don't know ... __**libenter hoc facio **__is an oath soldiers once took in Rome. _

* * *

_**Part 2: The Fan Club**_

* * *

Two hours after the incident with Thor, and Rory is ready for the day to end. Two silent run-ins with Jack had left the nurse feeling washed out and annoyed. It was true, that old saying .. some people really just shouldn't work together. You'd think they would've learned their lesson at Torchwood, but sometimes .. it just can't be helped. Mistakes are made again and again.

He glances down at the file folder in his hands, brows knitted in a furrow at the center that had caught the attention of more than one person through the years. The words 'cute when concentrating' had been used a few times, though usually not directly to his face. That crinkle deepens, causing a few 'laugh lines' to crease the corners of his eyes as well. Honestly, any creature that was tagged 'The Hulk' had Rory at least a little bit concerned. He would -not- say the words _**worried**_ or _**scared**_. Because, even after all of this time, he refuses to appear weak. REFUSES!

His fingers crumple the folder, a fair wince across his handsome features. Heaving a heavy sigh, he carefully straightens the folder out as best he can before glancing around the infirmary. From there, it's a glance at the pocket watch tucked into his jeans pocket, slipping it out almost reverently. It's silver, very, very old. The front had been inscribed with the words _**'libenter hoc facio.' **_The inside inscribed with _**'I do this gladly, freely, willingly, with pleasure.'**_

He squints down at the watch, sighing. It was almost 1. He had been told to eat when he could, a habit he was used to from both Rome and Torchwood, and now seemed as good a time as any. He shoves the watch back in, carefully removing his smock and hanging it up. He feels a little under dressed with out it, sporting a simple pair of jeans and a soft, light blue tee shirt. His fingers stroke lightly over the side of the material, unconsciously smoothing it in an effort to appear more 'presentable.' Not that he's a slouch or anything! But he can't help it .. with Captain Charisma on the premises, he has to try a little harder. So, off to the cafeteria.

The Ex-Centurion, Ex-Torchwood Field Agent, and current SHIELD Field Agent/Medic finds himself hesitating outside the double doors that lead into the Caf, where his colleagues and complete strangers are currently feeding. Yes, feeding, because after some of the things he had seen today, he can't help but picture half of them as ill-mannered beasts and creatures that have been put on this Earth to make saving it a chore, rather than the simple, clean cut operation he is used to it being.

He inhales deeply, silently, features sliding into the same unreadable mask he once wore before heading into the chow tent with his Cohort of men in Rome. Hmm .. at least it's only about half as bad as the old days. As with any large group, they had broken off into smaller cliques, and Rory groans softly, under his breath. He had never been good at cliques, especially not in High School. It had always been him, Amy, and Mel ... and that was pretty much it. It had been a matter of convenience for Amy, worship for Rory, and boredom for Mel .. not exactly the makings of a good friend group or anything. He quickly shoves the bitter feelings down, quietly scolding himself because he is -so- over it!

For the most part, the division is understandable; the black-suit agents in one area, the white-coats in another. Surprisingly, the biggest group is a mishmash of people standing in an almost perfect circle, and Rory groans inwardly. He can, unfortunately, picture who exactly is sitting in the -middle- of that adoring fan club. He tenses, feeling that familiar tug at the center of his back that makes him stand a little straighter, loosen his shoulders a little more .. so that he can try to cling to some sense of grace and quiet indifference as he turns to head toward the chowline. As if Jack would make it -that- easy on him!

"Oi, soldier-boy! You're late!"

The American accent seems thicker than usual, and Rory almost grinds his teeth together.

"They stopped serving fifteen minutes ago .. come on. I saved you some."

Rory can't help it .. he smiles, though he makes sure that his head is turned and Jack can't see it. Rory 1 ... Jack 1. He begrudgingly admits that to himself as he trudges toward the adoring fan club. And of course, Jack has placed the tray right next to him, leaving Rory little choice as to where he will sit. Jack glances at a pretty red-haired white coat, a brow raised in silent command and she nearly jumps up out of the seat, clearing it for Rory, who takes it with a slight smile to her before she disappears into the adoring crowd. Rory folds himself onto the seat, wishing that he could take the tray and run, eat in the infirmary or something so that he doesn't have to deal with everyone fawning over the Captain, who for the most part, barely even seems to realize it's happening. That's one of the things that irks the Ex-Centurion .. Jack doesn't even -realize- that these people are so stuck on him they can barely function with him sitting there. Doesn't realize that over half of them are probably contriving ways to try and seduce him.

"Thank you, Captain."

He mutters softly, refusing to say any more than he has to at this point, not really wanting to give the fan club any ammunition they may need to try and pick apart every nuance of interaction between himself and the Captain .. though he knows they are probably already doing it. They couldn't help themselves .. the rumor mill had probably already begun to run rampant over the fact that the two seemed to know each other, though Rory has to smile inwardly. If anyone had bothered to read the debriefing on their arrival, they'd have one hell of a simple, overwhelming insight into the two. The strange give-and-take dynamic that defined them. Had for several years now.

" [ Nihil est, ] soldier-boy. " (It is nothing.)

The Captain drawls the Latin out in that silken tone of his, and Rory feels his fingers tightening around the fork he's holding .. which he immediately uses to stab a piece of pasta with. Now is -not- the time for Jack to be showing off his language skills!

" [ Quidquid .. ] " (Whatever.)

Rory snaps back smoothly, and going against his every instinct, peeks out from under his tawny lashes at the Captain .. and is not that surprised to see a mixture of amusement and challenge shining back from steel blues. He stabs more pasta and drops his gaze to begin silently eating.

"Why do you call him that, Mr. Harkness?"

Rory winces when the word -mister- is used by one of the starry-eyed young women in a white lab coat, and waits for the inevitable correction to .. what was her name? Sandy? Blossom? Something ridiculous, flowery and far too .. American. He blinks languidly when Jack merely chuckles, Rory's gaze snapping back up against his will, to find Jack staring at him with that same mixed expression.

"Because, underneath his pretty white smock, he's a warrior and a soldier .. the Last Centurion."

The way Jack says the words warrior, soldier, and Last Centurion sends a blush creeping up Rory's cheeks, and he feels the metal of the fork beginning to bend in his hand a little bit. He -really- doesn't need to be sitting here, listening to Jack extol his good traits to a bunch of strangers that mean nothing to Rory in the grand scheme of things. He has nothing against anyone here, but neither does he particularly want to listen to Jack speak about him as if he's not sitting right there.

"That's such a weird title .. Last Centurion? Not to mention so outdated. And scrawny really doesn't do it for me."

The words are blurted out by a woman in a business suit, and Rory's head snaps up, gaze staring daggers at her. He glances from the corner of his eyes and sees the same flash of anger in Jack's gaze, and Rory's stomach does a bit of a back flip.

"I really don't remember -anyone- asking what does what for you, miss, so you'll forgive me for not giving a damn when you voice an unwanted opinion."

Rory lifts his glass of tea to give himself something to smirk into as Jack so softly, almost -sweetly- tears into the woman.

"And you're right .. it is rather outdated. What, with the lack of loyalty, strength, vision, and strategic wisdom found in most pretentious idiots calling themselves Agencies these days .. it doesn't surprise me that the concept is too hard for your inadequate brain to comprehend."

The words are verbal venom, even though Jack never once raises his voice, or even makes a show of telling her off. She goes scarlet in the face, unable to find the words to rebut what the Captain has just said. The others at the table quickly look to Jack with awe and hero worship and have already begun to turn their backs on the one that dared rankle Jack that way, though the Captain isn't paying attention to the way the others are acting. He's now staring silently at the woman, who finally just huffs in anger and stands, stomping away from the table, muttering to herself. Rory feels that familiar little double beat of his heart and he stuffs it down.

"Thank you for lunch, Captain."

He murmurs stiffly before he picks up his plate and walks away from the table. And if Jack feels the gentle touch of Rory's fingers across his shoulderblade, he doesn't acknowledge it, and that brings a little bit of a smile to Rory's features as he heads out of the Cafeteria. Jack 2 .. Rory 1. For now, he can live with that.


	6. The Hulk

**Part 3: The Hulk**

* * *

Lunch, as annoying and strange as it had been, was only a minor reprieve from the next task Rory knows he must perform. He picks up the file titled "Hulk/Bruce Banner" and for the first time since his arrival, he finds himself somewhat worried. It's not that he's really worried about the Hulk hurting him or anything of that nature .. he's just not in the mood for a complication at this point.

He yanks his glasses off, an accessory he had gotten into the habit of wearing while at Torchwood. There had been a comment made about how 'cute' he looked in the 'sexy specs,' so he had decided to keep them. Even he needed compliments every now and then. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sliding the glasses carefully into his smock pocket, frowning. With one last glance at the file, he tosses it on the counter that is somewhat cluttered with bins of tongue depressors, boxes of gloves, and other miscellaneous tools of his profession. While technically just a nurse, he is intrigued to find that he has been given a sort of free reign around here that makes him think of his time at Torchwood.

"The Hulk .. aka Bruce Banner .."

Rory murmurs the words as nothing more than a means of grounding himself in what he's supposed to be doing. He's a little annoyed with himself when he realizes that the situation at lunch is still bothering him a bit.

"That's Dr. Bruce Banner."

The barely controlled voice seems to materialize nowhere from behind Rory, and yet, it doesn't catch him off guard at all. Even though the man known as the Hulk is currently nothing more than the 'normal' human side of the strange superhero, Rory had heard him the moment he entered the exam room. After all, when one worked in a strange, subterranean agency that was also home to a pteradactal guard bird, one learned to discern sounds that did not belong rather quickly. He turns away from the counter, leaning back against it lightly as he looks at the strange scientist across from him. Some part of his mind struggles a bit with the almost short circuit caused by looking at the mild mannered man in simple clothing and glasses, and accepting the fact that a few hours ago, he was a huge, green monster capable of kicking the ass of a creature 4 times it's hulking size. And yet, even with that slight disconnect, there's no fear or wariness in the nurse. He has seen worse, though many probably wouldn't believe it.

"Doctor. Right .."

He murmurs the words lightly, rubbing his hand across his face for a moment. It's then that he sees the armed guard standing behind the scientist. Rory quirks a brow in confusion, seeing as they are both holding high powered tranq guns that are trained on the scientist. Almost as if he were under arrest rather than here for a check up.

"Excuse me, but there are no weapons in my exam room, gentlemen. Kindly leave."

The two guards exchange looks that are far too patronizing for Rory's tastes. He can almost -hear- the thought exchanged between them; we should educate the new guy. When they turn back toward him and he sees one of them about to speak, his usually soft, open features harden into a no-nonsense look that surprises both guards, and even the scientist.

"You misheard me, I think .. I wasn't offering a choice, gentlemen. Leave now, and take your weapons with you ... this is the end of me being kind about it."

He turns then, beginning to grab a few things he knows he will need to look the Hulk over. When he doesn't hear movement, he sighs silently and decides to give them one last chance.

"One way or another, gentlemen .. you and your weapons are leaving this room ... and I will take no responsibility for your stupidity."

There's something in his voice that finally seems to snap the two gentlemen into action. There had been a note of weariness in Rory's words, but it was more than that. There was a hint of age and capability there that didn't really seem to balance out with the look of him, and both guards decided that they would rather not chance it, sticking with the 'better safe than sorry' route at this point. Rory turns back to what he had been doing, not bothering to watch the guards leave.

"Terrorizing the natives already, soldier boy?"

The saccharine voice immediately rubs Rory the wrong way, the nurse having to take a deep breath for fear that he will tear into the other man for no particular reason. Well, beyond the fact that it's the first day of work and the flirtatious Captain already has Rory on edge. It reminds him of his first day at Torchwood, actually, when Owen and Gwen seemed to be playing a game of tag team trying to keep him off balance and disoriented. Why, he had never quite figured out. Though, after having been around the two for a bit, he's not really that surprised by any of their behavior.

"Not in the least, Mr. Harkness. Simply pointing out that I don't allow guns in here. Which means it would be advisable for you to leave as well." The younger man points this out lightly as he yanks Banner's file back up, trying to make himself concentrate on the business at hand. He glances over his shoulder, seeing the dark look on Jack's features at the way Rory had addressed him. Good .. Jack 2, Rory 2. Another strange step in their silly little game.

"Hmm." The soft, smooth sound coming from behind him really should've been his first clue that something was about to happen. That the Captain was up to something. The sudden blanket of heat behind him captures his attention immediately as Jack pins him against the counter front without actually touching him. Rory inhales deeply, his hands clasping the folder hard enough that he's about a second from shredding the thing. In fact, he forces himself to let the folder fall to the counter top a few moments before Jack is speaking. Yes, the Captain had a way of captivating someone when speaking, but feeling each word across his ear and neck is even worse.

"Well, if it's just a matter of getting your hand on my gun, soldier-boy .." Jack's words are like fire and ice all at once. And for one moment, Rory really isn't sure how he wants to react. He barely manages to turn his head enough to watch Jack push his old style revolver across the counter and let it go. Not that it matters, because in the very next moment, Jack's hand has passed almost teasingly along Rory's side, and no matter how stoic the younger man has learned to be, he can't hide the little shiver that goes down his spine. Jack pulls back, reaches up to push his bangs out of his eyes, and turns to breeze from the room.

"Sorry for interrupting, Dr. Banner." Jack calls out as he leaves the room. Where Rory views this as nothing more than another one of Jack's silly games, Banner had seen it from a completely different angle. Despite the fact that he can turn into a giant, green, hulking beast .. sometimes, it's rather easy for him to blend into the background. This had been one of those moments. He had seen Jack enter before anyone else had ... had seen the man blanch at the fact that Rory was telling the armed guard to leave. At least the Captain had a healthy sense of concern where the Hulk is involved.

He had watched, quietly, as Jack surrendered the gun .. and he had seen the act for what it was, even if Rory hadn't. The Captain had given the man a way to defend himself if something went wrong. So, when Jack bids him farewell, Bruce waves at him with a knowing little smile. He then turns his attention toward Rory, watching him for a moment.

"You know, Mr. Williams .. I have a feeling I could learn a hell of a lot about emotional control from you. Because, I mean .. I'm straight and everything, but I think even -I'd- be rattled after having him that close. You must have nerves of steel or something, buddy." Rory blinks, turning to look at the other man, having foolishly forgotten that he was even there after all of that. He feels like a complete idiot for letting the Captain get to him.

"I've worked with him for over a year .. I learned to ignore a lot when I needed to. Now, let's see about getting started, Dr. Banner." Rory offers a faint smile, his mind only partially on his business at the moment. Jack ... too many to count with that little move .. Rory .. -1 ... epic fail.


	7. Boss Man

**Part 4: Boss Man -**

* * *

_**I am not running**_. Those four little words have become a looped sequence in Rory Williams' brain, churning away over and over until he doesn't even have to concentrate to know that they're still repeating on a seemingly endless cycle. He is not running away. He would place his hand on a bible and swear to that fact! Hell, he'd put his hand on the damn -Hippocratic Oath- and swear to it. And at least, to himself, it would in no way be a lie. Because he really doesn't look at it as running. He looks at it as .. making a swift exit from the med labs to save his own sanity. After putting up with the droll, slow pace of working on Dr. Banner, since the smallest injury could send the man into a total melt down that created a large, green superman, Rory is snappy, tired, and -really- not in the mood to deal with anyone. In fact, the though to dealing is soooo not possible at the moment, even if he were willing to -try- and deal with something.

He stuffs every last bit of emotion deep down inside, and continues his swift walk through HQ. If nothing else, he -definitely- has to thank Jack for that, at least. After watching the Captain swagger around Cardiff for a year with that high and mighty, I run everything always, you can't touch me attitude, Rory had picked up a thing or two. Like, move quick, with a determined look on your face, and walk as if you -own- the place, and most people will get out of your way real quick. Those who aren't smart enough to, are usually easy to breeze right on past, so it doesn't matter in the end. You are usually left to your own devices, so to speak. No one challenges you, bugs you, or in any way tries to get your attention.

As long as you're Captain Jack Harkness, apparently, and not just lowly Rory Williams! Because the moment Rory is within sight of the door that would lead him out for some fresh air, he can feel this sort of tingle down his back. It would've been Spidey Sense, if you know, he had anything like that. Instead, it's a soldier's intuition. He stops dead in his tracks and turns on a dime .. his back goes rigid and stiff, and he stands at attention. Fury stops in surprise, having expected to have to tap Rory on the shoulder or something. He draws up short, features unreadable even though he cracks a little bit of a smile for the younger man.

"Rory, there you are. I was looking for you down in the med labs, and they said you were headed up here. I'm glad I caught you before you headed out for a bit. You're gonna have to postpone your break. I need you to handle a rather .. delicate matter for me." Rory doesn't speak, just gives a curt nod of his head, awaiting orders. Fury finds it comical in a sense .. Captain America had become thought of as the quintessential Soldier in all of this, but Fury could see some of the same quality in their medic. More so, in some areas, actually. Not that he'd ever say anything like that.

Fury reaches out in front of him, indicating for Rory to start walking. The man about faces on a dime and takes off at a steady walk, Fury leading him toward his office. Once inside, with the door closed, Fury would motion for Rory to sit, which of course, he does. Fury takes his place behind the desk, picking up a folder that had been sitting square in the middle of the desk, all alone. Obviously important.

"Now. Is it correct that you were briefed on the big battle that brought the Avenger's Initiative together?" Rory gives another curt nod, sitting straight and tall in the chair, listening. If this was a favor from the man that is basically his Boss, it had to be big. But for the life of him, Rory can't understand why the man would come to -him-, one of the two new guys on the block, so to speak, and ask for his help. That intimidated him a little, though he'd never admit it.

"Good. Now, I won't waste time asking if your file is real, Mr. Williams. We have mutants, men in metal suits, and space alien gods on this time ... not to mention a man that I know, for a fact, cannot or will not, stay dead. So, the fact that your file says you've been back and forth through time ... I don't doubt it. It says that you were a Roman Legionnaire .. worked your way up to Centurion, and eventually, all the way to Tribune before you came back to this time. Correct?" Another curt, to the point nod from Rory.

"Then, I'm going to be a bit .. blunt. You had to do many unsavory things to survive in Caesar's service. You had to let the man use your mind and body as his weapon, and it couldn't have been easy. You also managed to come -back- from something that horrible, joined a team that saved the world just as surely as the Avengers have .. encountered a lot of horrible things, even had an alien entity invade you for a bit ... you know what it's like to be used and unable to help it." Rory doesn't flinch .. outwardly. But inside .. he flinches, winces, and is doing everything in his power to keep his cool and NOT think about that time in his life. A man can only be pushed so far, even when knowing that the killing of the one that is pushing you so bad would wipe out time as you know it ... he had come close to killing the son of a bitch for all the bad he had done. History was FAR too kind to that man.

And his time at Torchwood .. he doesn't want to get his thoughts started on any of THAT.

"This file is .. -very- confidential. While it's true that the team know what the individual has been through, I would rather it not be openly discussed. I know that this isn't your job ... that it's -nowhere- in the realm of what you're supposed to do .. but please. Take all the time you need." Fury carefully slides the folder over to him before standing up to leave the room .. leaving Rory to look through the file. Hunkering down with a deep breath, Rory dives into the thing, trying to understand why Fury thought he'd be the best man to handle the situation.

An hour and a half later, Rory had read the file through twice, and then just ... stared at it. The contents really weren't that surprising if Rory compared it to the day to day happenings he had experienced in Torchwood .. he had seen something very similar, in fact. One of the young women that had joined the team in their last few months before closing down, had been infected by a strange sort of alien plant spore that had taken her over .. that had controlled her and no matter how she fought, she couldn't get away. Rory had experienced it as well ... for the few short minutes before the creature was destroyed. Apparently, there was something about going through the Rift that had changed him. The plant creature got a hold, and then ... just withered and died. Jack had said Rory was too strong for it ... Rory had assumed that was just Jack trying to make him feel better, rather than feel like some kind of freak or something. Unfortunately, working for Torchwood could make one feel lower than dirt and way too different, far too often.

It had always left Rory wondering -why- Jack would subject himself to that kind of thing, of his own free will, for so damn long. Jack had practically lived and breathe Torchwood for so long now ... it also made Rory wonder how Jack had retained even a spark of his humanity. After another twenty minutes of trying to decide how to approach the situation, he's no closer to an answer than he had been when he first started reading the file. Clint Barton ... aka Hawkeye .. Rory's lips twitch in a slight smile. Hawkeye seemed like such a strange nickname, but then .. who was he to comment on weird? The Last Centurion ... the Immortal Captain ... even the Doctor .. such strange names that they all went by. And in a way, all fitting, also. He had clung to the ideals of a Centurion soldier, even after coming back through the Rift and ending up in Cardiff. Jack .. he had reached the rank of Captain many times over in so many different forms of military that it makes Rory's head spin ... and the Doctor .. well, he was the man trying to heal the entire Universe. A job that would drive anyone insane. And he's still not sure that it hadn't ..

He carefully closes the file and places it smack dab in the middle of Fury's desk, where it had begun, and pushes himself to his feet. Maybe the best way to deal with this wasn't by -planning-. No, he should approach this the same way he had approached trouble with his cohort back in Roman. Heartfelt seemed to work more often than not. He turns and exits the office, nearly colliding with a young woman that he had seen around the labs. She was nice, sweet, though she seemed to talk on and on, without saying much of anything. She also seemed really nervous. When they nearly collide, he reaches out to grab her by the shoulders, to stop their momentum so they don't run into each other. She immediately goes red in the cheeks, and starts to stammer something, unable to form true words, though.

"Sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to burst out like that. Oh! You're just the person I was looking for, actually, Miss Andrews!" Rory's words cause the woman to practically light up, Rory not seeming to realize the fact. Nor does he see the way she edges slightly closer to him once his hands have fallen from her shoulders.

"Oh! Really? How can I help you, Rory?" Rory doesn't seem to blink when she uses his first name, his gaze having started to wander in search of something. He finds himself a little uncomfortable with the fact that so many seemed to work here, and he still hadn't learned his way around, yet. He sighs, feeling his own cheeks light in a little blush.

Yeah, picture that; adorable, cute Rory, blushing, smiling sheepishly, the kind of portrait he must paint to Miss Andrews, who is looking at him like he's a Nerd godling come to life or something! And imagine how -clueless- Rory would be about it all.

"I'm .. a bit lost around here, still, and I've no clue where to find someone. I'm looking for Mr. Barton .. erm, Hawkeye .. do you know where he might be?" For one moment, Miss Andrews looks utterly shattered, and Rory looks really confused. If Jack had seen this play out, he would've hurt something laughing so hard. The fact that Rory could be so clueless was downright adorable to the Captain.

"Oh , uhm ... M-Mr. Barton. Of course .. uhm .." She scrambles to compose herself, taking a step back to look around the office for a moment. Never had she been so embarrassed, and never had she been so wounded, though Rory didn't understand what was happening here. And maybe that's what wounds her the most, it felt as if she were being looked right through or something. "Mr. Barton is more than likely out in the practice bunker. There's an archery facility set up out there ... Excuse me, Mr. Williams." With that, she turns and heads out of the area, leaving Rory standing there, confused. However, he knows that he doesn't have the time to try and figure it out. He heads off in search of Hawkeye.


	8. Hawkeye

**Part 5: Hawkeye -**

Rory has never been the type of man to place too much importance on materialistic things. He didn't want and want and want as so many did. Sure, he had once coveted a car, but he had not spent his entire life looking for things to collect, possess and own. His fiance had been the exact opposite. She always seemed to want things ... always seemed to have her eye on things, and he knew that on occasion, her eyes were on other men as well. It's one of the reasons that he had left her, and the consequences of leaving her had in turn brought him to Torchwood, and now here.

He's unsure why he finds himself sinking into such maudlin thoughts, and he forces himself to climb right back up, out of it. After all, he's currently in search of a young man that needs his help. How he's supposed to help him, he's unsure ... but, he will do his best.

In the end, it didn't take long for Rory to locate the bunker. Despite the fact that it's a state of the art training facility/gym, it seemed to be the only building devoid of foot traffic. The Centurion found himself practically standing watch at the head of the path leading down to the building, silently hoping to observe some small glimmer of life. Five .. twenty .. forty-five minutes pass and he fails to see a single person go in or out of the building.

"That's not loads of creepy or anythin'." He mumbles the words to himself before he finally begins to move once more, following the silent path to the seemingly lifeless building.

His first thought upon entering the building? Why the hell didn't Torchwood have something like this!? The exterior had looked sufficiently cavernous and intimidating ... but the inside? It was somehow .. larger. (Not in a faded blue police box way, mind.) There's something about the collection of training equipment, sparring rings, and situation simulators that makes the interior extra impressive and sort of larger than life. Rory's next thought makes him groan softly; it's the exact same qualities that seem to draw people to the Captain. He stalls his next thought and allows himself to continue studying the place.

It's not until he's toured through a third of the facility that he realizes there is something -very- wrong with the place. Despite the modern, high tech vastness, it actually does remind him of Torchwood in a bit way. The sepulcher-like tone of the place. Much as Torchwood did when Jack wasn't in the Hub, the facility seemed dead and abandoned.

"Creeeepy .." He elongates the word on a sighed exhale before he continues walking. Idly, he wonders if he had been misinformed about the possibility of Barton being here, because it honestly looks as if the place hadn't been used since it's creation. It steadily fills him with a sense of utter wrongness. And yet, he goes on. He's nothing if not thorough.

By the time he's reached the last section of the bunker, he's aware of the first true signs of life. The schnick and twang of something Rory is all too familiar with from his time in Caesar's army; the sound of someone knocking and firing an arrow. He remembers, with a touch of fear, the master archers of the Gauls raining arrows down on he and his men. It was something from a nightmare! The sky near blacked out by arrows, men falling dead at his feet before he could fathom what was happening ... Rory gives his head a near violent shake to return to the present.

He can do nothing for those he lost, but he can try to ensure that he loses no one else. The change that overcomes him is subtle, and yet, somehow profound. Gone is the healer, replaced by the pragmatic leader. He inches forward silently, following the almost frantic sounds of arrows embedding in targets. Precise .. deadly .. and yet, hesitant. There's a sour, off beat between each hit that tells Rory the archer is hesitating between each shot. Not by much, just a few seconds, but in combat, a few seconds could equal a few lives. That's never good.

"Nice shot .. but bollocks on the follow through, mate." Despite the 'boy next door' look to him, and the generally laid back demeanor, Rory's voice carries the full authority of a Roman Centurion. With surprising swiftness and ease, Rory side steps an errant arrow, his sudden appearance having jarred Hawkeye, causing him to botch the shot badly.

"Shit! You okay?" The voice comes from above with a hint of distress that comes from quick movement downward as Hawkeye exits the sniper nest he had been working from. He comes to a surprised stop, however, once he reaches the ground when he sees Rory standing there, twirling the errant arrow like a baton.

"No worries, mate. 'm a bit faster than that." Rory holds the arrow out to the archer, who takes it and slides it in with the others.

"Sorry, not used to anyone else being in here. Probably not the best idea to be practicing while distracted, either." Barton mumbles almost sheepishly.

"On the contrary .. sometimes, the best remedy to combat distraction is making sure you have something to focus on." Rory makes his observation as he turns and heads toward the targets. He offers a low, appreciative whistle before he begins to collect the arrows. "Wicked accuracy for a still target at that kind of angle. But in the field, you'll choke and people will get killed." The words roll from Rory's tongue with the kind of casualness one discusses the weather, or states a simple, well established fact. There is no malice, spite, or reprimand in the words, Rory is simply trying to ensure that Hawkeye is aware of the facts as they stand. For one moment, the older looks prepared to argue, but he deflates almost immediately.

"... I know." He concedes softly, feeling utterly defeated. Rory gives a curt nod, holding the arrows out to the older man before walking toward the ladder that leads into the sniper's nest.

"Up." Rory commands, Hawkeye following without question. It's not until they are both crammed into the small space that he finds himself wondering why he had snapped-to at the Medic's command. After only a few seconds of thought, he realizes it's because there's a sense of authority and wisdom that doesn't match the physical age of the younger man.

"Yes, sir." He sounds off without hesitation, though he finds himself wondering what the hell they are doing in the cramped space. Imagine his surprise when Rory turns to face him and begins to strip him! Or, at least, the sudden short circuit in his brain -thinks- that's what Rory is doing. "Whoa, Doc! Don't know what kind of therapy you had in mind, but -" The sight of Rory's scowl and fiery gaze shuts the man up instantly.

"If you finish that sentence, soldier-boy, therapy will consist of a sparring ring and me handing you your arse on a bloody platter." Rory points out calmly, though there's a hint of amusement as well. "Also, I'm not a Doctor, either. Technically, I'm a nurse and qualified field medic. While I was studying for my doctorate, I was waylaid by a temporal rift storm and woke up in the time of Julius Caesar as he was fighting the Picts and Gauls." Again, the casualness with which Rory says all of this catches the older man off guard. As he talks, Rory goes about the original task, which had nothing to do with wanting to get Hawkeye's clothes off, beyond his gloves.

"Wait! You went -back in time- and were a Legionnaire in Caesar's army? No way!" Rory quirks a brow at the note of disbelief in the other man's voice, then gives a bit of a warm, amused chuckle.

"So .. an American hero turned from short and underdeveloped to the American version of a Greek God that was frozen and then thawed out half a century later you can believe, but not that I time traveled? What about the Asgardian idiot from an alien planet, who's people were worshiped by the Norse as gods? Or, hell, what about Captain Jack? The prat literally cannot stay dead! Plus, he's over 100 years old." Hawkeye sighs softly as Rory begins to pull the gloves off, hating that the man speaks truth. If he can believe the rest of it, why not?

"I .. I guess most of it sounds ridiculous, yeah. So, did you achieve any rank?" Rory gives a bit of a sad smile, and after a moment, a reluctant nod of his head.

"Several, actually, in the 18 years I was in that god-forsaken place. From Legionnaire to Centurion, then on to Tribune. I became Caesar's top spy against the Gauls, since I could move a lot easier than most, and looked a bit more like a Gaul rather than a Roman. Of course, he never realized it was because I -was- a Gaul .. just, you know, from the future and all." Rory gives a mirthless chuckle, his gaze having narrowed slightly. He truly hates remembering his time back then. "I probably would've risen much higher in the ranks if my negative views on slavery hadn't pissed Caesar off so badly. He couldn't understand how an 'educated' man could be against such a popular, 'obvious' thing like the owning of slaves.

Rory flexes his hands and fingers slowly, getting a feel for the gloves, his handsome features suddenly clouding by a dark, angry frown.

"Even if common sense hadn't told me that slavery was so damn wrong, I would've been -disgusted- with the way that barbarian treated his slaves .." There had been one particular slave who's treatment had nearly made Rory see red .. and had tempted him to change the course of history more than once due to that anger and disgust.

".. you okay, sir?" The surprising level of concern in Hawkeye's voice snaps Rory back to the presence and away from those toxic memories.

"Yeah! Now, I'm hella rusty on this .. so, give us a hand, mate." Rory shapes the words into a command, no longer surprised when the older man snaps to. However, it's now Rory's turn to feel a little surprised when Hawkeye's hands are on him, grasping him at the hips from behind.

"... sparring ring, soldier-boy." Rory cautions softly, with a hint of amusement in the words. It takes a rather long moment for the older man to realize that he's gripping Rory's hips, and to remember that the medic had threatened to kick his arse in the sparring ring.

"Damn! Sorry, sir!" He blurts and splutters the words out, hands yanked quickly from Rory's hips, a red hot blush across his cheeks. Rory merely chuckles again, a faint hint of a smirk across his handsome features.

"I know I'm irresistible, mate, but lets try and keep it professional for now, yeah?" The words are a slow, playful drawl, and Hawkeye's eyes narrow.

"Oh, please. You're totally resistible .. sir." He tacks the sir on the end almost as an afterthought, eyes widening once more. Wait ... for now!? That was -not- something Hawkeye was expecting.

Rory smirks outwardly at the man's rejoinder, but inside, he is groaning faintly. Because that smart ass comment sounded more like the kind of ridiculous line Captain Swagger would give. Actually, Rory decides to blame the line on the fact that he has spent too much time with Jack this year. Though, given the circumstances that -caused- him to spend so much time with the Captain, he really doesn't have the right to blame anything on his Boss.

"Ok, first off .. this isn't like the bows those savages used." Hawkeye's voice cuts through Rory's thoughts and he forces himself to continuing concentrating on the moment. "It's not a hand carved bow, so the balance is a little different. You'll have to get a feel for it." So, Rory carefully runs his hand down the curve of the bow before testing the string by giving it a careful tug. On the second tug of the string, he's hit by a wave of familiarity that is powerful and absolute.

Apparently, the old saying is true; it's just like riding a bike, you never truly forget. He knocks an arrow and fires so quickly that Hawkeye's mouth drops open in shock and a touch of awe as the arrow imbeds in the center of the target. Unfortunately, the awe is short lived, soon replaced with a touch of annoyance when Rory knocks two more arrows and clusters the with the first one.

"Now bad, sir .. but how about we stop with the BS and address the real reason you're here?" Rory releases a sigh and sets the bow aside. "So, give it to me straight ... medical discharge, sir?" Rory's brows knit at the question and after a moment, all he can do is shrug his shoulders.

"Honestly? No clue, mate. I've not been sent to evaluate you for discharge, so I don't know. I'm just here to talk." A job his former Boss is far better suited for, in his opinion. Talking used to be easy, but that was before the Rift storm stole him away .. before 18 years of Caesar's lies and BS .. before his time at Torchwood.

"Look, I just ... I'm not sure this is something I can handle right now, sir."

"Too bad, soldier-boy. This is -not- about -your- wants .. it's about the team's -needs.- Down. Now." Hawkeye immediately begins to climb down, yelping in surprise when his gloves come falling down after him. Again, he experiences a near atomic blush for a moment, quickly pulling the gloves back on as Rory climbs down.

"Okay .. just want to make sure I got this right, Barton. You're in a funk, questioning your usefulness and your abilities because last year, an alien Gd used a super cube to enslave you to his cause and used you against your friends and teammates .. that about right?"

"Well, sir .. it's .. a little more comp-"

"Yes or no, soldier-boy!?" Rory barks the command/question out in that authoritative voice and Hawkeye snaps to again.

"Yes sir!"

"That's what I thought ... have a sit, lad." Rory quickly sinks to his backside on the ground, Hawkeye following suit, settling next to him.

"Now, I understand what happened. Trust me. One of the first things I learned at Torchwood is that your coworkers aren't always your coworkers, and that it's easy to have your mind messed with." Barton stares at him with a look of quiet, but total, disbelief. After everything he had recently learned about Torchwood, no way does he believe an organization like that could so easily be infiltrated. Rory lets out a pained little sigh, before offering a sad little smile, having easily ready the disbelief in Barton's features.

"Honestly, mate .. what reason have I got to lie, eh? Like you said, they could easily bust you out of here for medical reasons, so there's no reason for me to make up a bunch of BS to make you feel better. Add to that the fact that I'm a nurse, and no way would I breech my ethics or endanger the team by making stuff up, either. Does no good, that." After a moment of hesitation, Hawkeye gives a bare nod of acceptance and understanding, remaining silent so that Rory can continue.

"In just the year I worked for Torchwood, there were two cases of telepathic control, 5 duplications of team members in various ways, and even one case in which the Captain was slowly replaced by an alternate dimension's version of himself. And that's just in -1 year-, so that doesn't include all the weird stuff that happened before I arrived." Out of all of that, Rory knows that he will -never- forget the replacing of Jack with AJ. It was the second scariest, hardest thing he had ever dealt with.

"And in that year .. there were also three possessions .. one of which was myself." Haweye's mouth falls open in disbelief. After all, he had seen the way Rory had performed on the battlefield. How could he still be that capable after an ordeal like that!? He glances back at him, a little surprised to see that his eyes have closed.

"The day it happened started like any other. There was a storm over Cardiff that had arisen out of nowhere. There was concern that it might be a Rift Storm, so the team convened at the Hub. The meeting was awkward, and .. well .. a little hostile, I'm ashamed to admit. The Captain and I were fighting .. again .. over something stupid ... again." Rory winces as he admits that, his brows furrowed in concern. Unfortunately, he and Jack had fought a -lot- in the beginning. Neither of them were even sure -why- they fought so much, but eventually, it made complete sense.

"Out of nowhere, there was a crack of lightening so loud that I honestly expected the Hub to blow up around us. Within ten minutes, calls started coming in from all over the place .. Gwen's contact at the police, UNIT ... the city was being plagued by .. well .. a plague. People that had been caught in the downpour were already showing signs of a major sickness. Thirty minutes after that .. we had the first fatality count; 200 dead in thirty minutes .. mostly children and the elderly. Just two hours after that, the plague had infected almost half of the city's population, and we had finally managed to track patient Zero; the first person to show infection. It was -not- what we expected." Barton is surprised to see the high flush of emotion across Rory's expressive features; pain, sorrow, and anger.

"UNIT had already confiscated Zero, and thanks to their red tape stonewalling, others were beginning to weaken and die. Jack dispatched Owen and me to examine the patient. Preliminary findings suggested it was nothing more than the common, everyday flu virus .. but obviously, it had to be more than that. After all, plenty of people get the Flu and they didn't die in droves like this. So, then came the concern that it may have somehow mutated because of the Rift .. a prospect none of us could really handle. And then things got worse. -Much- worse. Entire areas of the city were cordoned off, and those that were infected were moved to those areas to be quarantined as best as they could. It became a joint effort between Torchwood and UNIT to monitor the situation.

Despite the fact that Owen had been on the team longer, I had more experience in the field, so Jack put me in charge of the Torchwood side of the operation. My first official action was to -order- Owen away. I sent him back to the Hub, so that he could liaise between HQ and myself, in case I needed him to do something. I couldn't admit that I was trying to protect Owen .. because I knew his fragile ego couldn't stand something like that. Needless to say, he wasn't happy with the decision. So much so, apparently, that his angry ranting had almost immediately driven Jack from the Hub. And, surprise surprise .. he came straight to me. It wasn't long before we were back to arguing. This time, it was about 'office romances.' Jack didn't see anything wrong with them, and I was totally against such a notion. It deteriorated quickly into a screaming match between us, with him accusing me being unable to handle the fact that I had feelings for one of the team, and me basically telling him to fuck off and leave me be."

Hawkeye's eyes get so wide that Rory would've been concerned had he seen the look. All he can think is 'No way! He's gay!? But then, where the hell is this Owen guy? No way would he let Rory come here alone if they were together .. right?' He's surprised to find himself nearly praying that the man hadn't broken the Ex-Centurion's heart. Rory seemed way too cool to go through something like that.

"The fight, unfortunately, did more than just piss us both off. It proved be a distraction that we couldn't afford. I had been in the middle of examining Patient Zero, who had been tendered unconscious, when the Captain started the fight. I was distracted by my own anger and emotion at the all too familiar fight. Which is why I missed the spike in Zero's vitals. Missed his sudden rise to awareness. The bastard bit me and I never saw it coming. I was just preparing to order Jack out of the room when I screamed in pain. And, of course, the Captain jumped into action .. and was bitten as well. As far as I could tell, neither bite broke the skin, so there was nothing to worry about. The moment Zero was secured and sedated, the Captain escorted me back to the Hub to get some sleep .."

Rory begins to shift uncomfortably on the ground, a cloud of negative emotion darkening his features. Hawkeye finds himself holding his breath in anticipation of what will happen next.

"I was barely out an hour before the dreams began. I .. I can barely remember most of them now .. in fact, just the one, really. There were hooded beings sacrificing people on stone pillars. Gutting them .. spreading their entrails out in some kind of horrible offering or something. And then .. I saw myself joining their ranks. Taking up the knife and continuing the work. In the dream, one by one, I gutted and displayed each member of Torchwood .. everyone who meant something to me and were close at hand. When I woke up .. it was horrible. It .. it was like .. looking out of someone else's eyes. It was my body, my mind and yet, somehow completely foreign to me."

Barton's eyes snap shut, his hands clenched into tight fists against his thighs. Oh yes, he knows that feeling all too well. Had lived it, his own personal hell.

"When I looked down, I had a knife in my hand and was drenched in blood. It was congealed in a cold pool around my bare feet. I .. I started to scream, and couldn't stop, when I looked down and realized that I had gutted the one I loved .. and p-put his b-body on display just as the dream had told me to. I'm not sure which member of the team finally knocked me out, but I woke up three weeks after the infection began. Turned out it was nothing more than extermination attempt. A biological warfare attack from outer space designed to make us exterminate each other and make way for an easy take over. In the end, a wide spectrum antibiotic was all that was needed to stop it. But that didn't change the fact that I had killed someone, brutally, while infected. Everyone forgave me, said they understood, but it was something I had to come to terms with on my own. You will too."

Hawkeye exhales sharply, unable to find his voice. So, this is what happened to the Owen guy? Rory -killed- him because of an alien virus!? He blinks, surprised to see Rory already standing, scrambling to do the same.

"Trust me, I'm sure your team understands. And unfortunately, we all have to take the bad with the good. It's part of being a hero." After a moment, Hawkeye finds himself giving the other man a hesitant but brief hug, which Rory returns sort of awkwardly with a sad smile.

"Thanks, Doc. For sharin' that and all. See ya around." With that, Hawkeye shimmies back up, into the sniper's nest, and Rory heads out, back to his own domain. The Ex-Centurion is surprised how good it feels to have finally about that event.


End file.
